Maundy Thursday: Margaret's Maundy Money

I'm not sure if you're aware of my own annual tradition of Margaret's Maundy Money but if you're not, I'll explain a little.  Basically, I take all of my loose change to the bank which I've amassed during the past year and change it into 50 pence pieces.  I then place these in a secure hessian shopping bag and head for the town centre where I'll hand them out to deserving causes.  One year a PCSO was called to the scene because there was a bit of a scuffle for the last coins and an altercation started to boil over into near-anarchy.  Anyway, since then it's been a fairly easy process.

I can't say that I relish washing the feet of the poor, but I carry out this task in the local old people's home every other Sunday.  I hope by reading this you'll discover what a lovely and well-rounded citizen I am.  I don't do it for myself of course, but the buzz that the random acts of kindness create reverberates around my acrylic clad body.

Margaret: March 2013

Yes, I know I never blog any more, but there you go - an oversight on my part.  I am back, well, by popular demand if truth be told.  So, what's happening I've no doubt you're wondering and you're right to.  Well, I am still living in a flat, but I've moved further down the parade to an 'apartment' over the charity shop if you really want to know?

Mother's still living out of the area: she's moved to Bournemouth and runs an 'alternative' B&B for 'discerning customers' and by those, she means naturists.  I haven't a clue why, I mean she was reluctant to remove her vest until May when we all lived together, but they say divorce changes things.

Father's still an inpatient in the home for human earthworms and it doesn't seem as though he'll ever be released.  He escaped three months ago and slithered across an ice rink before he was netted and returned to a padded tank. 

Eleanor - well, there's another story.  I'll speak to her and ask her to update you.